


Transparent Paranormal

by pescado_diabolico



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Gen, i didn't tag pairings but it's yamato/eiji if you squint, if i ever write more for this they'll be a thing but for now this is what i've got
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 13:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18032900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pescado_diabolico/pseuds/pescado_diabolico
Summary: After dying in a car crash, Yamato finds that his new “life” is worse than he could’ve every anticipated.  It changes once he finds a human who can see him.





	Transparent Paranormal

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Heavens Appreciation Week Day 1, put on by callheavens.tumblr.com. This wasn’t my original idea for his day, but everything else I tried writing was like pulling teeth, and this just flowed out instead, a weird morbid AU about my favorite dumb jock idol. Will I ever write more for this AU? Perhaps. I'd like to.  
> Please consider leaving a kudos/comment if you enjoyed this!  
> Tumblr version: http://pescado-diabolico.tumblr.com/post/183298619942/transparent-paranormal

Ghosts couldn't see their reflections, but Yamato didn't need a mirror to know what he looked like.

It happened in a bright, painful flash.  One minute, he was driving down the highway after another fight with his brother, the next he collided into a semi-truck.  The following moments passed in a blur, before darkness overtook him. When he came to, Yamato saw his own mangled corpse, twisted and bloody, surrounded by shards of glass and warped hunks of metal.  Even in his phantasmal state, he knew he looked as ghastly as his old body.

The realization that he was dead didn't bother Yamato as much as he thought it would.  Seeing his family mourn him brought a twisted sense of pleasure mingled with bitterness.  It took his death for them to finally appreciate him, but what good was it now that he couldn't talk back to them?  He tried to, especially with Ryuuya. Yamato called out to him at night as he slept, blaming him for his death. It wasn't true, of course, but their argument was what drove Yamato to leave in a huff, and to the crash that ended his life.

But haunting his brother only resulted in Ryuuya tossing in his sleep and going to work sleep-deprived and cranky.  Yamato followed his brother if he woke up in a particularly bad mood, and enjoyed watching those delusional students who dreamed of being idols get snapped at.  He never liked idols, they reminded him too much of Ryuuya.

The worst part about being dead was how boring it got.  If he wasn’t trying and failing to haunt his family, Yamato fell back into the habits of his life.  But working out no longer brought a satisfying burn to his muscles. He couldn’t pick anything up, let alone food long enough to attempt to eat it.  Not that it mattered, as he wasn’t even hungry anymore. With nothing to do but watch from a distance, Yamato soon found his “life” more unsatisfying than anything he had known previously.

So on days when watching Ryuuya be unhappy wasn’t enough, Yamato drifted into the city to be amongst the living, even if they never acknowledged him.  He stood out in a crowd when he was alive, with his height and muscular frame, but now he understood what it was like to be invisible.

Yamato didn’t like it.  He was a loud, rough person, and this forced silence made him frustrated.  And when he was frustrated, physical activity couldn’t help him the way it had.  He was forced to stew in his own anger, and he often wondered if this was part of a cosmic punishment.  Being stuck a ghost certainly gave credence to that theory.

There were other ghosts around  though, many ghosts. Yamato was surprised at how many he saw, in varying outfits and hairstyles from various times in history.  Some wore the marks of their death plainly like he did, a slit throat or a stab wound or worse, and others simply appeared as opaque, exhausted people.  He tried talking to some of them, but the most he would get was a glare before the ghost shuffled off somewhere else. Yamato tried punching one, once, but his fist went right through the spirit, and his action earned him another dirty look.

The living couldn’t see him, and the dead were irritable at best, unresponsive at worst.  Maybe this was the hell he thought it was.

One day, Yamato felt eyes upon him.  He knew the feeling well, whether it had been his brothers or parents or teachers or coaches, but he hadn’t felt it since he died.  He turned, and saw a young man looking in his direction from a cafe table. Yamato assumed he was looking _through_ him, but when he turned around he saw nothing of interest.  Those violets eyes were intense, and it was the first time in a very long time that Yamato felt uncomfortable under someone’s gaze.  He hoped he didn’t show it.

But he had to test something.  Yamato sneered as best he could, hoping his bloodied, glass-scarred face was suitably disgusting to unsettle him.  The young man’s eyes widen and he ducked his head.

So he _could_ see him.

Yamato strode through the crowd and sat across from him.  He peered closely at him, noting his straight, feathery brown bangs and soft features.  His eyes were such a lovely color, and Yamato wouldn’t have minded admiring them further if not for his desire for answers.

“If you can see me, nod,” he said.  It felt so good to speak again and knowing he would be heard.

The young man nodded.

Yamato smiled unpleasantly.  Maybe the afterlife wouldn’t be so bad now.  “What’s your name?”

“Eiji.”  He hardly moved his lips, and Yamato had to strain to hear him.

“Eiji,” Yamato repeated.  “My name’s Yamato.”

Another small nod was his greeting.  Perhaps Eiji was worried about being seen talking to himself in public.  He didn’t seem too frightened that a ghost was speaking to him.

Before Yamato had a chance to say anything else, a man came out of the cafe with a drink carrier and two cups in his hands.  He looked a lot like Eiji, hair and eyes a similar shade of brown and violet respectively, but his hair was longer, his eyes thinner and cooler, and he wore glasses.

“Ready to go?”  He asked. Yamato was thankful he didn’t sit on him.

“Yes, nii-san.”  So he was Eiji’s older brother.  Yamato watched them head down the busy street, but not before he caught Eiji looking at him over his shoulder

* * *

Yamato returned to the cafe for a week before Eiji returned again.  He appeared to be alone this time, since he had a cup and half-eaten pastry in front of him.  When Yamato sat down with him again, he noted how Eiji didn’t seem to be shocked to see him this time.  Maybe he had been expecting him, too.

Eiji took out a notepad and wrote something down.  When he was finished, he pushed the pad towards Yamato  as subtly as he could to read.

‘I would like to talk to you later.  I will try to answer any questions you have.  Please follow me for the rest of today.’ Simple, direct, honest.  Yamato appreciated the clarity of Eiji’s request, since it was the first thing in a while that really made sense.

“Alright, I’ll go with you,” Yamato said.  “You better help me make sense of this whole mess, though, or I’ll make you regret it.”  He leaned forward as he made his voice more threatening, meeting Eiji’s eyes.

Eiji said nothing, merely returning Yamato’s glare with a smile.

After the cafe, Yamato followed Eiji around downtown as he went window shopping.  He then walked down a few blocks to an office building, passing through the halls until he reached a practice room with a piano.  Eiji took his seat and began practicing scales.

So he was a musician.  Yamato snorted and leaned against the piano, watching Eiji’s fingers move across the keyboard with a careful precision.  He wasn’t musically-inclined, never had been, but hearing Eiji play scales and small scraps of melodies afterwards didn’t bother Yamato.

Their privacy was interrupted but the entrance of a small man carrying a folder of sheet music.  He traded spots with Eiji after a polite greeting, and the real reason for their being there began.  Yamato listened to Eiji’s vocal lesson, even if being around so much music reminded him of Ryuuya. He tried to ignore that.  Eiji was a wonderful singer and he wanted to enjoy listening to him without unpleasant thoughts getting in the way.

A limousine was waiting for them when they left the building.  Eiji’s brother was sprawled across one of the seats, and Eiji sat primly but relaxed across from him.  They spoke with an easy rapport, one that made Yamato more envious than he cared to admit. He had no reason to mourn the poor relationships he had with his brothers, he had given up wanting something like that long before he died, but he still wanted such a relationship.

The lavish car drove them out of the city to a shining building of glass and concrete.  Following the brothers deeper inside, Yamato found that it wasn’t just a house, but the headquarters of… some business.  He couldn’t tell just yet what went on there, but the statue at the entrance seemed familiar. What was it?

Inside the vast building, they entered a large apartment with two other people inside, a dark haired young man and a younger boy.  They all seemed quite amicable towards one another, talking and joking freely. There was again the energy of family, and again resentment welled up inside Yamato again as he watched them eat dinner.

When it began to get late, Eiji excused himself.  As he headed for his bedroom, away from the others, he spoke again to Yamato.  “Please give me some to get ready for bed,” he said quietly. “You can stay in my room if you’d like.”  He gestured to a door at the end of the hallway before disappearing into another room.

Yamato drifted through the door and found himself in a remarkably plain bedroom.  A duffle bag of clothes sat near the closet, and no posters or pictures hung on the wall.  The only indication of any personality was a small picture frame and a few notebooks scattered across a desk.  Yamato bent to look closely at the photograph and noted that it showed a much younger Eiji sitting with his brother.  They both looked so carefree.

Eiji shut the door with a sigh, causing Yamato to startled and straighten away from the picture.  He offered Yamato a kind but tired smile. “Well, we’re finally alone,” he announced. He sat on the edge of his bed and gestured for Yamato to take the chair at his desk.  “You can ask me anything you’d like.”

“How can you see me?”  Yamato blurted. No reason to beat around the bush.

Eiji shrugged.  “I just… can. I’ve always been able to see dead people, though they usually ignore me.  I’m sure you know how they are.”

So it wasn’t just him.  Yamato was relieved to know his repeated failed attempts at communication with the dead were shared.  “Do you know why? I mean, I was trying to find someone who’d-- I dunno, give me some explanation for all this.”  He gestured to his current state.

Another shrug, and an apologetic look.  “I can’t answer that either. Most spirits are very secretive.”  Eiji laughed a bit. “You’re actually one of the few ghosts who’ve approached me.”

The first time they met, Eiji had been looking at Yamato like he had two heads.  It may have been partially true, his gruesome appearance coupled with his already imposing height still made him stand out even among the dead.  “How could I not? You looked like you shit yourself, and it’s been a while since someone’s looked at me at all.”

“Ghosts tend to congregate in the areas where they died, or places that were important to them in life,” Eiji said.  “I’ve seen many of the ghosts there for a long time. I noticed you because I’d never seen you before, and you looked… lost.  Lonely, you know?”

Yamato scoffed.  “I’m not lonely.”

“Are you sure?  You seemed content to follow me all day.”

Eiji’s innocent appearance belied an intelligence Yamato failed to notice until now.  He glared at him again, but Eiji’s placid smile remained. “Being dead is boring as hell, and I hate standing around doing nothing.  I wanna move on or whatever.”

“I’ve never helped a spirit move on.”  Eiji folded his legs under himself to sit fully on his bed.  “I don’t know how they do it, if they can. I… try not to talk to them too often if they talk to me.”

The sheepish expression intrigued Yamato.  “Why?”

Eiji’s cheeks tinted under the scrutiny.  “Bad experience when I was a kid,” he said.  “My father didn’t like that one of his sons spent his days talking to himself, so I prefer that people not know.”

“Does anyone know?”

“My brother, but I don’t know if he believes me.”

Eiji’s strained voice and short explanations made it clear that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, despite Yamato’s curiosity.  But, he’d drop it for now, and changed the subject. “So… since neither of us really know what to do, can I just hang with you for a bit?”

Eiji brightened considerably.  “Of course! But please don’t try to scare me or my family.  Nagi’s especially sensitive to anything related to the supernatural, it terrifies him.”

Yamato would have to ask who was Nagi.  The kid, maybe? He got up and offered his hand to Eiji.  “Deal.” He figured they couldn’t shake on it, but Yamato wanted to make some formal action to mark their agreement

But Eiji took his hand, and its warmth and solidness would’ve taken Yamato’s breath away if he was still breathing.  But he wasn’t, so his shock manifested plainly on his face. It felt wonderful to feel something again.

Eiji’s laughter shook Yamato from his daze.  He looked up at Yamato, still holding onto his hand, still smiling.  “Deal.”


End file.
